External Influences
by elements4life5
Summary: The Seattle reapers get transferred to London, England. George is assigned to reap a woman in pink. Sherlock notices a strange group near every crime scene. Dead Like Me and Sherlock, maybe Doctor Who in the future. Rated for George's rude mouth and Mason being Mason. Multi-chapter, updates may vary but please enjoy! :)
1. Chapter 1

AN: I don't own any of these lovely characters. I will blame Mason if I mess up any facts, and have a strict conversation with the little man in my head if my grammar sucks.(He insists on making me obsess over my writing skills, makes it hard to take notes in class.) If they become overly OOC, I will murder Anderson with spoons. Please let me know if I'm rambling too much at any point. I'm pretty sure that in my head (along with grammar-man) there is an overly-descriptive 5 year old girl with no attention span. :)

"Are you shitting me?! London?"

"That's right peanut, we're on orders to transfer. A lot of deaths happen in London, and we as reapers have to do our part." Rube explained in his _don't fuck with the system_ voice. I hated that voice. He uses that voice when he's pissed at the gravelings. It meant that there was no reason to fight it, our transfer was arranged by Upper Management.

"And all of us are expected to just pack up and leave our lives here?" Asked Daisy, "That doesn't work for me."

"Well, I'm excited! I haven't been home for a good decade." Mason piped up.

Rube nodded. "See, Fuck-Up is excited." Mason frowned at Rube from across the table.

I checked my watch. "I guess I can ask Delores if she can arrange a job for me. I don't suppose reapers are paid for public service in England?"

"Nope. Stop and give this to Charlie on your way to work." He dropped a brand-new black cellphone in my waiting hand. I flipped it open, raising an eyebrow at Rube.

"I bought two phones with international coverage, so we can still contact other reapers here if we need to." The look on his face clued me in, _Charlie can check up on your sister for you._ I smiled at him. He could be very annoying and mean, but Rube could also be really thoughtful.

I drove to the vet clinic Charlie hangs around; hopefully he would be nearby. Stepping out of the car, I tried to think of what to tell Delores.

"Hey Toilet Seat!" The boy looked just the same as always, his red sweater and hat torn and dirty.

"Hi Charlie. Did you hear the news?" I might as well check.

"Penny at the hospital said something about the whole External Influences division going somewhere."

I held out the phone.

"Yeah. England. Mind checking on Reggie every once in awhile? We're gonna be away for at least a few years."

"Sure," Charlie replied. "It's not a problem."

I thanked him, and told him to stay out of trouble. He just laughed as he sped away on his old skateboard. It was time to go to work, and face the music.


	2. Chapter 2

I was not surprised when Delores got all worked up. After all, I am her favourite employee. I shouldn't be so proud of that. It made me just a bit sad knowing I probably wouldn't see any of my fellow Happy Timers ever again, then I remembered catching Crystal licking office supplies. No, I don't think I'll miss them.

"So, Millie, why are you leaving? England is quite a distance."

"Well... See, my dad's brother lives in London, and... Um... He is stuck in his house with some severe... thing, and he wants me to come stay with him." I prayed to every god I knew that she wouldn't stick Her Big Brown Eyes any farther into my 'family matters'.

"Oh. Do you have a job lined up? I can call some people, pull some favors? You'll want to get settled in quickly." Delores honestly did care about me, so I decided to let her help.

"Would you? That really would be great." Trying to smile genuinely, I thanked her and went to pack up my cubicle. It's not like I had much there, but I would need the pictures of Millie's family if Delores found me a desk job. I had written down the number for Rube's new cellphone from the other one's contact list, so I sat, typed in my password and clicked over to the staff list. After I filled in the new information, I sent the completed form to Delores and Crystal. I taped my little cardboard box of crap shut and told Crystal to call me later with any news. And I just walked out. No party, no surprises, just me. _That wasn't so bad._

When I got home, I dropped the box on the floor and went to find Daisy and Mason. I felt like being near someone. I had lived my whole short life in the same house, and much of my afterlife in a dingy apartment not far away. Later, the house I shared with the two older reapers had become my home, but I still had never really gone far from my living family. I hate to admit it, but I needed a bit of comfort. Daisy was packing up the painting of a floating house.

"When we get there, we'll need to find this a spot with the right light!" She said cheerily. I had to smile; she was obviously trying not to show the painting's sentimental value.

"Alright. Will we get a place together?"

"If you like, sweetie; you make a good housemate."

"And what about me, then?" Mason wandered into the living room, slightly drunk.

"You can do whatever you like, Mason." Daisy sighed. He would have to live with us or as a squatter, because Mason wasn't going to get a job, and would definitely not live with Rube or Roxy.

Daisy told us both to start packing. She had a bit of time before her reap later this afternoon, so she sat with her laptop and looked over listings, while I boxed my clothes. Frog was coming along too, so I was going to have to look up travel tips for amphibians.

It was moving day. All five of us sat in the airport terminal, having said goodbye to Penny and Charlie. The scruffy little kid had managed to get a picture of Reggie and J.D. for me and Penny made it clear that she preferred planes to boats._ I guess that a boat phobia is justifiable if you die on the Titanic. _Delores had arranged a job for me at Happy Time London, and made me promise to write her an email at least once a month. I agreed, mainly because I've become pretty skilled at writing convincing bullshit emails. Then it was time to go through security.

"Mason." Rube grumbled. _This should be interesting._

"Yes, Ruby?"

"Is there going to be a repeat performance of what happened last time?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No. I'm clean. For now." Rube stared at Mason for a very tense second. Then he turned away.

"Okay."

"Wait, what happened last time?" I couldn't help asking. Roxy raised her eyebrows slightly and gave a little grin.

"He tried to smuggle drugs in his ass, but the thing burst. He spent the rest of the day crying over a stack of waffles."

"Oh, so _that's_ why!" Daisy cried out, as if it was some huge fucking achievement that she understood now.

"Shut up, all of you. I was trying to be discreet. We're in a public area filled with security guards." I agreed, Upper Management might be able to get us into England without a hassle, but it would be our own fault if we missed the plane.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: okay, so I did a lot of research for this chapter. I will make an effort to put the American reapers in a few awkward situations. I'm totally Canadian though, so let me know if I've messed something up. The filming location for Sherlock is 187 North Gower Street, and there just so happens to be a perfect apartment for George and Daisy just across the street. Really, look it up on google maps. So from now on, ALL of North Gower Street will be 'Baker Street', including what's behind the camera. And the Iceland thing is google flight's favourite suggestion.

Just in case I forgot to mention, I don't own Sherlock or Dead Like Me or anything else you may see here. (I don't even own a badass trench coat, although I do have a DLM clock my cousins made me for my birthday.)

The first flight was 7 and a half hours from Seattle, Washington to Reykjavik, Iceland, followed by a 2 hour layover. The second flight from Reykjavik to London was 3 hours long. I spent most of those 12 and a half hours looking at various clocks and out of windows. It wasn't my first time on a plane, but it was the first in my afterlife.

Roxy chewed gum and bobbed her head to the music in her headphones. They were those big black ear-covering ones, probably from her living years. Daisy sat, legs crossed at the ankle, drinking wine or something in a tall glass. She held a book open on her lap, some sappy romance novel from the drugstore. Mason watched his little tv screen, chuckling occasionally. Rube had his pull-down tray thing open and covered in paperwork. He was also holding his leather journal. I leaned on the window, and fell asleep.

Upper Management had somehow managed to procure working visas for each of us. _We really do seem to be just another public service._

I had already decided I wasn't going to get a car unless it was by fate, like my cool red Mustang back home.

Daisy had a 'maisonette' (whatever the hell that means) chosen and on hold for us when we arrived, somehow. She had only had a week to do her research, so she probably had some connections. London's Natural Causes division took over externally influenced deaths for a while so that we could settle in.

I must admit, Daisy has good taste. The apartment was nice and simple, with two bedrooms, a decent kitchen, and a big balcony. The only thing I would have asked for would be my own bathroom. At least it was possible, if necessary, to lock her on the balcony in the rain if she was overly annoying. We bought a pull-out couch for Mason. He could sleep in the living room. Frog had a nice shelf for his tank. I could get used to this place.

It would take a while for me to get used to everything else.

J. Wilson

3 Lauriston Gardens

E.T.D. 4:36 pm

My first post-it after we arrived in London. I left our place and grabbed a taxi at around 2:30. My new day job wouldn't start for a couple more weeks, so I had no better place to be, and it wouldn't hurt to be early. I needed to get acquainted with the city as soon as possible, or risk missing an assignment. I didn't need a graveling on my ass with everything else going on.


	4. Chapter 4

The taxi came to a stop in front of an abandoned house. The driver helped me count out the fare. I was a little embarrassed, but he apparently gets that from a lot of tourists.

At 4:00, a different taxi stopped on the street near the house. The driver got out of his seat, and opening the passenger door, pulled a gun from his pocket.

"Alright, mrs. Wilson, you gonna come quietly?" The man was old and looked kind of sweet, but I knew who was about to die. The woman currently stepping out of the cab. J. Wilson was dressed all in bright, repulsive pink, with slightly frizzy reddish hair. She seemed a bit annoyed as well as frightened, which made me proud. Most people with a gun pointed at them are to busy freaking out to look insulted.

On the way out the door earlier, I had grabbed a recent newspaper. Poisonings, serial suicides, they said. I've seen much, much weirder things happen. Maybe this was connected. This guy continued talking as he walked her to the house, and it didn't seem like he planned to use the gun as anything more than a threat. If that were the case, J. would already be dead.

I had crouched in a bush near the porch. As the pair walked by, my hand shot out from the bush and brushed the woman's skirt. Neither of them noticed.

About half an hour later, the old man went back to his taxi and drove away. The soul of J. Wilson appeared next to me.

"Damn it. Wrong choice." She mumbled to herself.

"So, what's your name?" I asked, and she turned towards me.

"Jennifer."

"Do you know what's going on, Jennifer?"

"I'm dead, right?" I nodded.

"I'm your grim reaper. I took your soul so you wouldn't feel any pain."

"And what happens now?"

"You get your lights; don't ask me what happens beyond there. I don't know."

"Can you call the police for me?"

"I shouldn't, but I'll get someone to do that." Jennifer smiled at me, then walked off into her lights. I caught a glimpse of a man in scrubs handing her a baby, which she cradled protectively.

"Hello, Rachel."

AN: It seems reasonable that the lovely old cabbie, Jeff Hope, would ask the victim's name. He was ever so friendly to Sherlock. Also, J. Wilson doesn't strike me as one to freak out, if she was clever enough to plant her phone on him. I'm sorry that some chapters may be very short or long, and if updates take a while. It's my own fault.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi! I'm trying to avoid working on a presentation for school, so here's the next chapter. (Anyone have any ideas on how to make 15 minutes on methamphetamine interesting to my classmates, let me know. I don't have a clue how to start.)

Even though reapers naturally gave off a 'uninteresting' vibe to the living, knowing how the cops worked made it easier to avoid them completely. After Jennifer got her lights, George found a random kid nearby and had him call the police. Then she stood in the shadows and observed.

The police came, looked around, asked the kid some questions. There was a few cars, lights were set up, and a few people, forensics guys probably, put on stupid blue jumpsuits. There was one grey haired guy that seemed to be the boss. He was having an argument with a pretty black woman in high heels holding a bunch of files. He turned and walked back into the house as George heard a car pull up.

A tall, thin man with dark curls and a black coat jumped out. He was quickly followed by a short blond man leaning on a metal cane.

"Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything."

"Harry's short for Harriet." This made the tall guy pause.

"Harry's your sister. Sister! There's always something." Shorty started to say something, but was interrupted by the high heeled cop.

"Hello, Freak."

"I'm here to see DI Lestrade." George watched as the cop, who was called Sally, and the tall guy exchanged some banter. Shorty was introduced as Dr. Watson, but the other one was only referred to as Freak as Sally let them pass the tape barrier. _If he's a freak, then why is he here?_ George moved a bit closer. Freak was talking to a stupid looking man in a jumpsuit.

"Is your wife away for long?"

"Don't pretend you figured that out, someone told you that."

"Your deodorant told me that."

"What?" Freak put on a weird grin.

"It's for men." _So?_

"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it!"

"So is Sargent Donovan." George had to stifle a laugh. The ugly guy looked slightly scandalized. He started to make an excuse, just as the Freak made the killing blow.

"I'm sure Sally just came 'round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I'm assuming she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

_Oh no he didn't! _George was forced to muffle her laughter with the hem of her jacket. Now she understood the nickname. Freak turned and walked away quickly. Watson moved to follow him, but stopped for a moment to glance at Sally's knees. His eyes flicked back up at the faces of the two cops with a smug look.

George mentally snapped a picture.

Sherlock ran out of the old house, mind making connections at full speed. _What idiots. Such a put-together woman with a well-paying job would have a suitcase that matched her outfit. For said case to match, it would be the same repulsive pink as her coat. Most people consider pink a feminine colour, so if the murderer is male, he would get rid of it as quickly as possible. A random skip nearby would work quite nicely._

Suddenly, Sherlock noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A girl, about 20, stood just in the shadows. She was watching him. After scanning the girl over, his eyes met hers. She suddenly seemed confused and concerned. Her mouth opening just slightly, she took a involuntary step back. He then reminded himself of his reason for leaving the crime scene and continued down the street.


End file.
